A Normal Relationship
by FadeForever
Summary: Puck goes to Santana's house after the Hummel-Hudson wedding. Puck/Santana, mentions of Santana/Brittany because it's fairly clear Puck ships Brittana.


**Puck/Santana, Santana/Brittany. 1270 words.**

**Puck goes to Santana's house after the Hummel-Hudson wedding.**

**I own nothing, and all I want is feedback.**

I'm almost regretting walking home from the wedding reception when my phone buzzes in my hand. Santana.

"_Puckerman, im sayin bye to b and wheels, be at mine in 10 weddings make me horny."_

I almost reply _yeah of course - it was the wedding and not seeing b dance all night_ but I don't because I don't want anybody picking up Santana's phone and looking through her inbox and seeing that. Crazy shit goes down in this town (made clear by the dog I passed two minutes back, humping a trash can as a homeless man cheered.) I just shove my hands in my jacket pocket with my phone and walk down the road towards the Lopez house.

I'm always shocked by the beauty of this place, and tonight is no exception. I walk between two fucking perfectly shaped rose bushes before scrambling a wall and sitting with my legs dangling off it, facing the pool in the back. The grill below my feet is still letting off a little heat from when I made dinner for me and my girl before we met the rest of the Glee kids earlier, but it's a pretty cool night and it's not so much to hurt. I don't want to move, anyway – this is the only place I know Santana's neighbours won't see me, and Santana's dad won't see me here unless he, like, wants to light up the grill, but it's almost midnight and I know he has a pretty rigid sleep schedule.

I wait there for about twenty minutes before Santana's car finally pulls up. I hear her drop her keys and curse before opening, then slamming, the front door. She's so adorable. I hope that didn't wake her dad. I jump off the wall (narrowly avoiding hitting my ass on the grill cover – that thing's gonna get me one of these days) and walk around to the patio door. Santana isn't there, but I don't wanna knock in case one of the neighbours hears and reports me to the cops again. I know I'm here legitimately, but I'm still on parole and I don't want to do anything that might seem even vaguely suspicious. I need people in this town to like me now.

When Santana shows, she's still wearing her red bridesmaid's dress, and she looks hot as hell. I mean, wow. She still has a flower behind her ear but her hair is a little ruffled, and I notice something else has changed.

"Wasn't that flower on the other side earlier?" is the first thing I say to her, and she rolls her eyes at me.

"Don't ask don't tell, Puckerman," she replies, and I grin at her. That's basically become our mantra over the last year, although we never stick to it. She'd be terrible in the military. I, on the other hand, can keep a secret better than Rockefeller, but since the whole débâcle with... well, almost all of the girls in Glee, I have decided that she deserves to know what's going on with me. Hell, sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk to, even if all I'm telling her is what I had for breakfast.

"I want to swim," she says, shutting the sliding door behind her and pushing her body up against mine. I back up, although that's hard to do because I can barely take my eyes off her cleavage. That's some fine artwork right there. I shake my head and try to focus on not falling backwards into the pool.

"Isn't your dad home?" I ask, and then I remember. He's at a conference until Monday. She reaches up to undo the straps on her dress and doesn't even bother answering me.

It's a little while later that I'm towelling myself off in Santana's bedroom and admiring the way her boobs do not move one little bit even when she's wandering around not wearing a bra, when I remember the look on her face during Furt's parent's vows earlier. I'm not a sappy guy or anything, but Santana really is adorable when you pay attention to her and sometimes I just want to hug her and make all her pain go away. I know that sounds weird, coming from me, but becoming a father does weird things to a guy.

"Hey San?" I say, interrupting her search for... something. She looks up and snarls at me like I stopped her from doing something important. "Do you think you'll ever get married?"

The snarl drops from her face and is replaced by something I can't read. "Why do you have to ask these things?" she replies, softly, and there it is again – that feeling that I just want to wrap my arms around her and tell her it's all going to be ok.

If I were to tell anyone at school how lucky I think I am to have Santana, they'd look at me like I was crazy, but I swear to you, sometimes, I am the luckiest guy in the world. There's this amazing girl, and she doesn't belong to me, she so very, very much belongs to someone else, but I get to have these intimate moments with her, and I get to have sex with her fine ass, and she can get all jealous and possessive over me when I do things wrong and that's kind of flattering, and I get to talk to her about things that I would never talk about with anyone else because they'd think I was crazy. She's not looking at me like I'm crazy now. She's looking at me in a way I know all too well, like she wants to open up and spill her heart to me but would much rather just jump my bones.

In this instance, she does both.

I won't complain.

Hooking up and talking at the same time isn't usually my thing, but I make an exception for Santana, particularly when she wants to talk about Brittany. I grew up watching those two make out all over the place, and it's not exactly a turn-off. And I know how much it means to San, to have someone to talk about it with. Quinn, who also grew up watching those two make out all over the place, might be fine with it but would draw the line at considering them as a serious couple. It would leave her on the outside, the third, useless wheel on the unholy trinity ride.

Santana takes a break from sucking on my neck to say, "this is probably the closest to a normal relationship I'll ever have." I keep my eyes closed but nod. This boner is starting to hurt, and I guess she realises and we shift and she stops talking for a while.

An hour later (shut up) my arms are wrapped around Santana and she's smiling at me like she actually likes me.

"Thank you, Puckerman," she says, nudging my leg with her toe.

"You're welcome, Lopez." I say. "And hey, if things don't work out..." I pause, not knowing how to phrase it properly. "I'll always be here."

"Don't be a pussy, Puck."

The next morning, Santana's phone rings early and I know it's Brittany's name on the screen. As Santana answers, I pull on my clothes, mouth "see you later" at her smiling face, and exit the Lopez house through the front door. Now, where's the nearest place a guy can get a breakfast burrito?


End file.
